Carrying Our Cross

Hani

Yousef

Towadros

Maged

Milad

Abanub

Kirollos

Bishoy

Malak 

Girgis

Mina

Samuel

Samuel

Ezat

Loqa

Munir

Esam

Malak

Sameh

Girgis

and one other whose name is unknown.

These 21 men were laborers, fishermen, ordinary, hard-working husbands, fathers and sons who left their homes in Egypt to find work in Libya.  As Coptic Christians, they knew it wouldn’t be easy for them to live in a place where ISIS is actively engaged in terrorism.  But they were desperate to provide for their families so they took the risk in spite of the dangers.

In December and January, during two nighttime raids, masked gunmen went through the city of Sirte, looking specifically for Christians. They dragged these men from their beds and took them hostage, making it clear to the world that they would punish them for the double “sin” of being both Christian and Egyptian.  Two weeks ago, all 21 men were executed.

Those simple, ordinary men probably never intended to die for their faith – but that’s exactly what they did.  Like thousands of men and women before them who, in the face of persecution, carried their cross openly and without shame, they lost their lives.

As Episcopalians in New England, it’s unlikely that our journeys will lead to martyrdom at the hands of terrorists. But many of our brothers and sisters in faith truly do live their lives in danger.  The cross that we’re called to carry every day of our lives is a symbol of solidarity with them.

The martyrs among us may proclaim their faith with dramatic acts of courage – such as stepping in front of an assailant’s bullet to save a life, the way Jonathan Daniels did in Alabama 50 years ago.   And there are less dramatic but equally courageous acts – like earning a living in a hostile country with a Coptic cross tattooed on your wrist. 

Jesus taught that choosing to become his followers requires that we deny ourselves (Mark 8:34). That means recognizing that not one of us is more important than another; no life is worth more; no death is worth less. 

Being ashamed of Jesus doesn’t just mean denying all knowledge of him. It also means denying his sovereignty in our lives by not putting him foremost, by not acknowledging the comfort he gives us, by not responding to his desire to help and bless us in every way.  In other words, being ashamed of Jesus is often expressed in what we don’t do.

If we’re too ashamed to show people what Jesus is like and what he’s done, and continues to do, in our lives, if we compromise our faith to fit into a faithless society, then we dishonor the people whose earthly lives are damaged or ended because they’re not ashamed.

Before they were killed, each of those 21 men cried out, “Jesus, help me!”

We’re all sustained by the same holy, life-giving source, Jesus Christ.  When we’re not afraid to pick up our cross and carry it through our daily lives; when we’re not ashamed to let other people know where our strength and confidence comes from; that’s how we ensure that those who lose their live do not die in vain.  And they are never, ever forgotten.

Excerpted from a sermon preached February 28 & March 1

Artwork created in memory of the martyrs - by Tony Rezk

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